Falling Star
by Rawrsomez
Summary: Chelley story. Chell and Wheatley are separated by the vast plains of space. They both think that they will never see the other again. But one falling star changes everything. Follow the adventures and struggles of the couple T for occasional bad language/I'm paranoid. Set 4 months after Portal 2. Core!Wheatley first, Human!Wheatley later on. Please review for hugs :)
1. The Star

Chapter 1: The Star

Wheatley's POV

The Earth was really quite pretty at this time of day. When the sunlight rose and beamed its way over half of the glistening sphere, it looked quite… spectacular. I suppose, if you could call it 'this time of day', it would be my favourite period. I don't know if there are 'days' when you're floating around in space. The sun is constantly there, a beacon of light and warmth. I don't know how long I've been floating around here for. I'm not sure that I want to know. I'd turned off some of my system's features a little while ago, such as the clock, in an attempt to preserve my battery for as long as possible. I could feel myself slowly deteriorating as the time went by. My tiny emergency solar panel would finally get some use, it seems. It wasn't powerful enough to sustain all of my components though, hence the switching off of those that were unneeded. My communications radio and my speakers, which had always projected my rambling voice, had also been suspended.

No one could hear me from here anyway.

The defunctive core had long since been swept away by the moon's orbit and crashed its way into the surface. If I turned on my scope, sometimes I was sure I could see the faint glistening of metal parts littered about the silvery plains of the lonely moon.

The moon. I both hated and loved that giant sphere. Every time my optic strayed over to it, I was reminded of her.

Of Chell.

It was beyond the average robot's emotional capacity to comprehend how much I missed her. In her standard issue Aperture apparel, that orange jumpsuit dangling from her waist and that portal gun always held firmly in her hand. The same portal gun that I had doubted she would even find, let alone have the comprehension of how to use it properly. That same portal gun that she had used to sneak her way past GLaDOS and lock me in control of the whole Aperture facility. And the same gun that had sent us both flying into space.

I closed my cracked optic disc as I remembered those last moments. How Chell had held on to me so tightly before losing her grip, her hands sweaty and moist from fear. How she had looked so sorrowfully into my optic before being dragged back into the facility by a newly restored GLaDOS. I remembered how her hand had stayed pointed towards me, flailing about in a desperate fashion.

A 'day' didn't go by when I didn't wish that I had ended up back there with her. I could have told her how the core transfer had controlled me, and manipulated me into believing power was everything. I could have told her that when I realised she had disappeared down that elevator shaft, I was unable to feel anything, but lowly and disgusted at myself. But the machine had somehow brushed those feelings aside, and created the uncaring, test-loving monster that Chell would remember under the name Wheatley forever. It broke my metaphorical heart to think that she would remember me as the awful, terrifying machine that hurt her when she helped me.

My mind wanders to what she would be doing now. If she was even still alive. I blink as I comprehend the possibility that Chell is dead. Thinking about it, GLaDOS would still have hated her and she would have wanted her revenge for Chell 'killing' her. Even though Chell had taken her in, protected her, and taken her to the centre of the facility, it wouldn't be beyond GLaDOS' capability and capacity to brutally murder her. I am about to mutter obscenities about her to myself, before I realise that Chell had gone through the exact same situation with me. She had been betrayed twice in a row by mindless, selfish, back-stabbing machines. I choose to speak the obscenities about myself instead.

If I could cry, I would.

Oh, Chell.

I look at the vast expanse of stars stretching out before me and feel for the wires that turn on my communications devices.

"Chell." My voice is crackly as I speak for the first time in what feels like forever. I pause before continuing.

"Chell, I miss you. A bit. Um, quite a lot actually." I glance over at the Earth. "It turns out, I'm not actually that good at talking to you anymore, which is funny because I used to talk to you for probably hours without faltering. It's… not actually that funny, I suppose, but, y'know how my sense of humour is a bit… weird and that. I'm… quite off topic now because I'm just talking to you without really thinking about what I'm saying." I pause again as I metaphorically catch my breath, thinking about all the times I had gone over how I would say this exact speech to Chell.

"I wanted to tell you how I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I was totally useless and how I let the machine take control of me. I'm sorry about how I shoved you down that shaft and then forced you to become my little test subject just because it gave me a nice feeling. I don't feel that nice at all at the moment. I was bloody stupid and reckless and, um, I regret it. 100 per cent, I regret it. I wish I could take everything back now and I… I hate myself for everything I did. You never wanted to harm me, not ever and… I guess I'm just trying to say…" I hear a faint whishing behind me to the right, but choose to ignore it. This unheard speech is not going to be interrupted now, no matter how imperfect it is.

"I guess… what I'm really trying to say is…" The noise is getting louder now.

"I'm sorry… for acting-"

I am cut off as I am propelled straight towards Earth at a ludicrous speed. I hear some of my circuitry fizz and crack. I look behind, and an asteroid is travelling behind me to the left at a similar speed. I know now that the circuit damage is caused by the dent the travelling space rock has now probably left in my metal backside.

I realise that these are my last few moments, before I crash down onto the Earth in a heap of scrap metal. I face the Earth again and compose myself, determined to finish my speech.

"Like…" I traverse through the atmosphere now, adjusting slightly to the feel of gases around me.

"S-such…" My surface is heating up to an almost unbearable temperature now, and I start to feel the pull of gravity drawing me ever closer to the Earth. I hear the words "Core temperature critically high. Emergency shutdown in progress."

"A…" I could now make out what I recognised as rivers, towns and lakes. I have to close my ruined optic to cope with the strain.

"Bloody-"

Everything goes black.

Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please R&R, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^


	2. Falling

Chaper 2: Falling

Chell's POV

I walk along the path leading to town, breathing in heavy breaths wearily. I've been jogging for a good hour now, and as I return I ponder over what I will have for lunch. Maybe… some spaghetti? With... a tomato sauce? Oh yeah, that new tomato sauce recipe I found whilst surfing through the internet the other night. Yeah, that sounds good. I take a moment to relish my new found freedom. It's been five months since… Aperture. That's what I've come to call everything that happened there. There are some things that I would prefer to leave unsaid.

Somehow, I managed to find myself a little apartment in the suburbs of a small nearby city, and settled down there. It's barely furnished, but I picked up a job at the local library and I'm saving for some more stuff soon. I chose the library and specifically applied for the job of shelf-stacker because it's quiet. I'm not required to talk, which, in my case, is extremely useful. I've been trying to regain my voice but everything I tried failed. It might be too far gone to get it back.

In my spare time, I've even drabbled in experiments, as crazy as it sounds. I guess I do have brain damage. I've become interested in transferring AI's into other living things. I managed to successfully turn an old cleaning bot into a gerbil, and a recycled alarm clock AI into a horse. The living creatures become hosts for the AI. It's quite an unexplored path of modern science and it's extremely effective. The transfer, if done correctly, will give the AI complete control over the specimen's body and its functions. I have to create a small, disc like housing compartment to store the original circuitry on the animal. I sold the horse for a good profit to the local university, but couldn't bring myself to part with the gerbil.

My house is a five minute walk from the edge of town, and I can see the tall buildings clearly from where I walk. I am thinking of the ways I could spice up my lunchtime spaghetti, when somehow, I start to think of all of the things that happened at the Aperture Science facility, good and bad. My thoughts stray to Wheatley. At first I try not to. But Wheatley has much too large of a hold on my memories at Aperture for me to ignore him. That silly deep blue eye of his and his crazy, off-topic talk that was always amusing in some way. I remember that I would wish that I could talk back to him. We could have chatted for hours about the most random things. I would talk to him about apples for days and days if I had the chance. I imagine; if I could talk to Wheatley now, what would I say?

I don't really know. I remember how scared I felt when I felt him bashing both me and GLaDOS down that elevator shaft. I remember how his voice echoed around the room as he yelled in frustration at how he was not a moron. I know that the conversation was aimed at GLaDOS, when she was provoking him, but I couldn't help feeling at that moment that Wheatley was talking to me. But even after everything he did; the betrayal, the mockery, and the parts where he tried to kill me, I can't find anger in me. I have no burning hate towards him.

Only sorrow.

Wheatley would probably be broken down by now, just spare parts that floated on by in the sparkling canvas that is space. The image that those thoughts create in my head is enough to break my heart. Out loud, I sob. It is just one short, breathy sound, but the feeling alone of air passing through my mouth like I was speaking is enough to set me off.

Oh Wheatley.

Sitting down at the left side of the road, I let my rarely used emotions get the better of me. My body convulses with the emptiness that I feel. Wheatley had left a gap, and nothing was able to replace it. I hear a high-pitched squeal which I presume is the product of my weeping. I've never really cried properly before. Not even after I had been released from the Aperture facility. I just stood in wonder for a few minutes and then started moving.

The screechy sound was getting quite loud by now, and I come up with the idea that it is because of my long since abandoned voice-box. Maybe the speech-like act of crying was forcing air through it and since I hadn't chosen to speak in what felt like forever, it was like running an old machine without any oil. I had forgotten how to speak since I hadn't done it in so long. Looking up, I imagine that I am looking at a star through the blue sky and I wish upon it that someday I will see Wheatley again.

I stand up and wipe my eyes, trying to shake off the feelings that course their way through my head. I stumble forward, only to be greeted by a giant crash off to the right of me. At first I am scared, and am tempted to run away like a startled rabbit as if I saw nothing. My interest is piqued though, and I make my way away from the city.

Smoke starts to funnel its way up into the sky, in greying puffs that remind me of cotton balls. I make every step deliberate but cautious as I grow closer. There are not many parts strewn about, but there are flecks of silvery paint here and there. Some of them combust by themselves and shrivel in flames, turning to ash piles of nothing within a few seconds. As I make my way closer to the mysterious fallen object, I glance around to check if anyone else is around.

Not a soul to be seen.

One of the things I notice is that the scene before me is extremely warm. The heat radiating off of the crash is enough to force beads of sweat to form on my forehead. They dribble down the side of my face, over my cheeks and fall onto the grass silently. I cough slightly in the smoky mess, my lungs not used to polluted air. Slowly, I can start to piece together the scene in front of me, through the clouded haze of smoke. It is now ridiculously hot, to the point where the parts of my skin which are exposed are starting to hurt and tingle slightly.

I can now see the shape of an almost round object that has a few of its panels peeling off of the main structure in flaps. There is a dent in the back of the structure that faces upwards and a small slice through into the body of the object. This cut is illuminated by the occasional sparking of electrical circuitry inside. There is one handle-like protrusion on one side, part of what I assume to be a matching pair meant for the opposite side. A quite look around tells me that the missing identical piece is somewhere behind my feet.

Vapours erupt from the gaps in the machinery, silently warning me that the surface of the object is boiling hot. I shrug off my cardigan and take out the bottle of water that I always take with me when I run. Pressing the material to the opening of the bottle, I turn it upside down and let the liquid seep into the fabric. The metal hisses and spits at me as I kneel down and drag the cardigan over the surface. I don't want to pour the water directly onto the metal though, for fear of further damage to it.

When I have decided that the supposed handle of the sphere is cooled down enough, I pull on it and turn it over. My heart falters as I recognise the object before me. I rest my now shaking hands on my lap, letting go of the all-too familiar core.

Oh God.

Wheatley.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please R&R, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^

(Thank you to those that have already taken the time to read and even follow this silly little story, wow J)


	3. Fixing Things

Chapter 3: Fixing Things

Chell's POV

Scrabbling around, I hurriedly grab as much debris as possible. Not the paint flecks, but any shards of metal that are littered around. I stuff as many as I can into my cardigan pockets and tie the item of clothing around my slender waist. I slide the missing handle through one of the belt loops on my jeans and slowly bend down to pick up the smouldering, smashed shell of Wheatley. He feels much lighter than I remember and this adds to my panicked state. Only one thought echoes through the scrambled mess of my mind.

I've got to save him. Somehow.

I run towards the tall buildings of the city as fast as my already tired legs can carry us both. My palms are hurting intensely from contact with areas that I didn't manage to cool with my cardigan. I swear that I can even hear the faint sizzling of my flesh but I convince myself that it is the sounds of Wheatley's circuits. Thinking the first option makes me feel dizzy.

As I dash through the streets full from the rush of those going home from work, I am oblivious to all the funny stares and disapproving looks from those on the pavement. Returning the shortest way I know of, I cut through alleyways, side-streets and past bewildered passers-by to make it to my apartment. Somehow, I manage to juggle Wheatley in one hand and my keys in the other to open the door.

In my apartment, there are three rooms: my kitchen/living space, my bedroom, and my… 'science room'. I have yet to come up with a more inventive name. Flicking the light switch in the science room, I carefully place all of my recovered goods onto the well-worn work bench. I turn Wheatley's barely intact body towards me and sigh heavily as I stare into the shattered, now un-illuminated optic that once burned the most incredible shade of blue.

Forcing myself to turn away and not break down right there proves to be harder than I thought.

_You've got to save him, Chell._

Right. Let's start with his casing. Unlocking the case to my tools, I pick out my hammer and screwdriver and grab my welding torch from its hook on the wall. I try to straighten out most of the fragments of metal using the hammer and a vice. There are some parts too small or deformed to be recovered, but I manage to fix most of them. I slice my hands countless times on the sharp edges, but at this point, I'm beyond caring about myself. Prying open the cut already in the framework, to cause the least damage to the core, I keep my trembling hands steady and recover all of the circuits. I make several sketches beforehand to make sure I return everything to its right place. I try not to look at them as they fizz and pop. He can still be fixed. I can still fix him. I slide down my mask and am about to turn on the welding torch when a little voice pops up in the back of my mind.

**Are you sure you want to do this?**

_Of course I do. He's my best friend and I never thought I would see him again. _

**He tried to kill you. **

_Well, he __**was**__my best friend. His space trip might have rationalised him a bit._

**He might try to kill you again if you bring him back. If you can even bring him back. Which I doubt.**

_That's a problem I'll deal with when I come to it. He's not controlling an entire facility this time, so he won't have much power. He can't even walk! And you know what? You sound a lot like GLaDOS at the moment. That's not a good thing._

**Maybe I am GLaDOS. Maybe a small chip was planted in your head. Maybe I sent a fake core that looked like the moron to distract you. Or maybe this whole thing is an experiment to see how-**

_Piss off_, I think to myself, rage bubbling over inside of me. If I could shout, I would most certainly be yelling and screaming all kinds of profanities.

I shut out the stupid voice. It's for the best; I might punch something if not.

I work over the metal casing for a long while, pacing back and forth to retrieve bits of metal to secure back onto the core. The sight of the blue flame keeps me going, because it reminds me of the blue of his optic. I end up redoing and starting some parts over, because it just _has _to be perfect. Finally, all of my work resembles something similar to that enigmatic core. The only thing that remains unfixed is his eye. The glass across the front still has a large crack right down the middle. I suppose it is a part of him now, something that defines him.

Now for the circuitry. This was gonna be the hard part. I'm no professional at changing a light bulb, let alone fixing, rewiring and rebooting all Wheatley's systems. I create make-shift wiring to replace the frazzled and burnt ones, out of copper wiring from a broken lamp. The destroyed wires feel like a mixture between overcooked grass and uncooked spaghetti. Spaghetti. I hadn't realised how hungry I actually am, and my tummy growls in its frustration. _Sorry, you'll just have to wait_, I think. I've got more important things to deal with. I decide to fix all of the wires just to be sure. After some time, I refer to my shaky sketches and weld the wires back in place. I have to unscrew a few of the make-shift panels I put onto Wheatley to get a clear view. It's after doing this that I hit a bit of a bump.

How do I turn his systems back on? I can only hope that they went into some kind of emergency shutdown when the exterior got too hot and didn't burn out or break. There's no way I'd be able to replace his systems. Not without going back to… there. And I wasn't going to do that.

I reopen Wheatley's body, looking desperately for anything. A manual on "How to Operate a Moron" would be really useful about now. I mentally slap myself for calling him that. He was an idiot, a big one at that, but he wasn't a moron.

_Isn't, not wasn't_, I say to myself_. He's not gone yet._

To my luck, I find a green button about the size of the end of one of my fingers labelled 'System Boot'. I press it without hesitating. A female voice speaks the words I'm desperate to hear: "System Boot in progress."

A smile creeps its way across my face before I can stop it. I lean over the bench and peer into the optic, waiting for it to light up and see me smiling. Though it takes a little while, I am not discouraged.

After five minutes I sigh.

After twenty minutes I stand back up.

After thirty minutes I lean back on the bench, facing away from Wheatley.

When a full hour has passed, I decide maybe it's time to get to sleep. It could take a while, I suppose, as Wheatley did have a lot of different electrical components inside of him. Through the open door, I can see the shadows of moonlight reflecting on the laminated kitchen floor. I am just about to stand up and leave when I hear a small robotic movement behind me. Jumping, I turn around and resume my position. The earlier enthusiasm returns, along with the earlier voice.

"System Boot failed."

Huh?

I couldn't have failed.

I reach inside Wheatley's framework and push the button again. My brow knits and my lips purse as I hear the robot-lady repeating her earlier words. "System Boot in progress."

Since this time around I know it could take a little while, I wander into the kitchen, turn on the light and make that spaghetti. I can't quite remember how to make the sauce but I improvise. Fifteen minutes later I return to the other room, plate in one hand and fork in the other. It takes ten minutes for me to wolf it all down. The sauce isn't that bad, even without the recipe. I drag a chair into the science room and plonk down onto it. Yawning occasionally, I sit in wait for Wheatley to come back.

"System Boot failed."

I stand up with such a force, it sends my chair flying. I place my elbows on the work bench and cradle my head with my hands. I feel like giving up; like grabbing the stupid core and throwing him out of the fourth-storey window of my apartment. But a small niggling feeling stops me. I realise that this time, it only took forty-five minutes. Maybe that meant it was slightly closer to fixing itself this time.

I press the System Boot button again.

Now that I am back to rational thinking, I notice the mess I have made. Fragments of burnt casing blanket the floor and work bench. The wooden chair lies halfway out of the doorway. I return it. Larger panels that wouldn't straighten out lie around me, freshly flung somewhere in frustration. I run my hands over the body I had worked over so laboriously. Some of the panels are still marred from burning. The high temperatures have left their scars in the form of scorch marks coloured in dirty oranges and smoky reds. I want to fix them; fix them all.

I stand that way for many minutes, caressing and inspecting Wheatley's framework. I imagine that with every touch, I am taking the wounds away. Every time our surfaces meet, it erases all the pain and confusion and hurt.

"System Boot failed."

It took just ten minutes that time.

Defiant as ever, I press the button again, and turn away. A hand runs through my messy hair and I yawn from the sleep deprivation.

"System Boot failed."

I turn back around slowly.

What?

I push the button again.

"System Boot failed."

Again.

"System Boot failed."

Again.

"System Boot failed."

The workbench vibrates and echoes hollowly as I slam my fist down onto it. A grunt-like sound escapes from the back of my throat, followed by a strangled, hoarse, "No." that parts my lips.

Surprised, I try to mimic the action again but I can't do it. I spoke!

The ruined object in front of me distracts me from the accomplishment of my entire life, and I sit with my elbows on the table, picking up the lightweight core in my small palms.

_Please, Wheatley, fix yourself. Just… somehow… do it. Please_, I think to myself.

I place little old Wheatley back down, cross my arms over the table, and lay my head on the bench. I've run out of things that I can do, I can't fix him!

The thought sends sobs through my body and I lay there weeping until the world just fades away. The last things I see are blurs of stars and little blue lights that lead the way.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please R&R, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^ Please advise me of any ideas you guys have for future fics or scenes or whatever ^_^


	4. An Idea

**Hi guys! I'd just like to say thanks for all the reviews and such, they are really inspiring me and they keep me going. I'm not too sure I'm happy with a certain concept in this chapter, as it is extremely messed up, but for now it's one of the only situations that would work. It gets a bit weird but it has to be there for the story to continue. Let me know if you think it's too messed up and I'll try re-write it; I'm not exactly over the moon with it either. Anyway, thanks for reading... you monster ;P**

**-Rachael ^_^**

* * *

Chapter 4: An Idea

Chell's POV

The sound of something scrabbling around in a cage is enough to wake me. I jolt upwards as I realise I had fallen asleep hunched over the work bench. The still and lifeless sphere on the table in front of me makes me feel tired and weary, and like a complete failure.

For a few minutes I try to repeat my unexpected speech yesterday. I can make the 'n' sound but have some trouble with the 'o'. My effort pays off though, and with a little practise, I'm able to say "No." The feeling makes me happy, and I mess around trying to say some more complex words.

I lurch forward as my stomach rumbles hungrily. Oops. I only ate one meal yesterday. Better grab some cereal.

As I pour some kind of chocolate-flavoured, rice-based cereal into a pristine white bowl, the scrabbling sound returns. I'm too tired and worn-out to comprehend what it is, and pour a generous amount of milk over my breakfast. Grabbing a spoon, I glance at the clock hung above the front door to my apartment. It takes two looks to process that it's already two in the afternoon. Guess I had worked into the early hours of the morning over Wheatley.

"Hun. Gee." A little squeaky robot's voice comes out of nowhere. At first I'm confused, but then I realise who it is. I stick my bony index finger up and point it at the cage, indicating to give me a second. I even attempt to mutter 'one' under my breath. I put the silvery spoon on the kitchen worktop and walk to the cupboard.

"Zero. One." The way the robot squeaks and squeals is quite endearing really. "Hun. Gee."

Except when he is hungry.

I smile as I grab the paper bag of food for my pet. It was nice to have some company in this lonely flat.

The gerbil, whose robot side was named Kleen by his manufacturers, known as Spike to me, sniffles its way around the cage eagerly waiting to be fed. He is coloured completely jet black, and one white stripe zigzags its way down the left side of his body. "Hi." He says promptly, and tries to climb up the cage to greet me, snuffling constantly. "Hungee." I pour out his food, he mutters high-pitched thanks, and he begins to sort out his breakfast.

Being a cleaning bot previously has obviously left its mark on Spike. Every time I've ever fed him, he has worked away diligently to organise the small granules of food into colour coded sections. I sit with him, taking my bowl of now mushy cereal over to sit by him. I watch as the tiny LED in the small housing compartment flickers away whilst he mutters incessantly to himself.

It only reminds me of Wheatley though. I sigh as I realise the grace period is over. I have to face the fact that Wheatley is gone. Just when I thought I'd got him back. Dammit. My eyes brim with tears but I refuse to let them fall. _You have to move on_, I think. _You tried, and there's nothing you can do._

The feeling that fills my stomach, but yet leaves it so empty, reminds me of some song I heard on the radio once. I sing it in my head.

**_Damn, damn, damn, _**

**_What I'd do to have you here, here, here_**

**_I wish you were here,_**

**_Damn, damn, damn,_**

**_What I'd do to have you near, near, near_**

**_I wish you were here._**

He_ is_ here, but he is so far away. I think that's the thing that hurts me the most.

My eyes narrow in an attempt to stop crying but instead skim over Spike. I try to think of happy things. Ok, happy things… to do with… Spike. Oh, yes. I remember that he was my first transfer, my first proper experiment! I smiled the whole way through the whole process, like a little girl that just got extremely spoilt by her father. I remember how happy I was to learn of my success in transferring an AI into a living-

Oh.

_Oh._

**_Oh._**

That's it! That's the solution! I transfer Wheatley's mainframe systems into another organism! It's mine and his only hope. If this didn't work, it really was all over. What to transfer him into though? I'm not sure he would be happy with becoming a sheep for the rest of his days. Maybe… I suppose… I could… but… no, where would I get the volunteer? I'd never transferred anything into such a complex structure as a human before. Nope.

I do remember one person though, who might just be willing enough to lend me his body and life to save my best friend. It was about a week ago, and I was on my way back from my shift at the library. I noticed a whimpering figure cowering over in a corner of a dead-end alleyway. I stopped and approached him. Reaching into my pocket, I hold out a variety of coins and notes to him. I sat next to him and placed them onto the ground next to him when he didn't respond. He spoke to me then, offering thanks and gratitude for my generosity. Closing my eyes, he began to tell me his life story and I leant against a pile of bricks and fabricated the tragic pictures he described in my head. Long story short, he was abandoned and left to die. His voice cracked a little when he told me he wanted to die. He was so poor though, that he couldn't afford anything to kill himself with. When he had been abandoned, some chip had been planted inside him that prevented him from starving to death, as some sick bastard's idea of revenge against his family. It was cruel really, to see this man so desperate to die. Steve, his name was.

I hurried out of the apartment, not even locking the door and practically flew down the stairs. I almost forgot which alley it was, skidding in my cheap canvas shoes.

I wave at the Steve person, and they wave back after struggling to recognise me at first. Opening my mouth, I say a silent 'Oh,' as I realise I can't explain to him what I'm asking.

I point to him a little nervously, unsure of whether he would understand that I can't speak.

"Me?" Nodding vigorously, I cross my fingers like I really want something and bite my lip.

"Wish? So, I wish?" I nod again, and then mimic a 'cut-throat' action. Then I keep moving my hand from the thumbs up position to the thumbs down position.

"To die? Yes? No? Um…" His strong, husky, New-Yorkian accent falters for a second. "Do I… want… to die?"

I nod, less vigorously this time, thinking how messed up the world really was. Was I really going to kill this person? I much prefer the term 'go to sleep'.

"… Yes… I…I do." Steve's voice is quiet, and subdued.

I then go through a series of actions that hopefully translates to: 'I can help you sleep.' It takes a while, but homeless Steve gets there. I curl my finger in a beckoning motion and he follows, not even bothering to pick up his blankets and few possessions that lay on the ground. I feel sorry for him, but I can't change his past. He is walking to his death like someone would walk to the corner store.

Once inside, I give him some cheap prescription drugs from the chemist that soon have him stone cold. It is more than weird to think the last thing he will remember is going into a stranger's house and being given some pills. It's the first time I see his features, too. He's a dirty ash blonde with unkempt stubble sprouting from his defined jawline. He has quite prominent cheekbones too, though whether this is from malnutrition or just lucky good looks I don't know. Steve has long eyelashes and green eyes that remind me of the forest. For a homeless guy, he's not that bad to look at. The most defining feature is definitely his height though. He must stand at around 6"5 or 6"6 at least.

Surprisingly, I'm actually quite squeamish when it comes to blood and stuff. My trusty long fall boots prevented any serious injuries, just a few scrapes here and there. I won't go over the procedure in too much detail, just a small op here, a little chip implant there and the housing compartment is built with his blue optic in the front, the crack still jagged, and unmissable inside it. After a little while of deliberating, I make the decision to house it over his heart. Nothing sentimental, of course. It just makes more sense for it to be placed in that place a little to his left. I hook up a couple of wires to the housing compartment. Taking a deep breath, I unleash the first surge of electricity that will pulse through. This is the finishing step; the one that will meld machine to man. If this doesn't work, Wheatley is lost to me forever.

The body reacts by jolting upwards. Yes. That's what I want. A reaction.

I send the electricity through Steve's body, or now Wheatley's, again. A larger reaction comes now and I swear I see his eyelashes flutter. I gasp inwardly in excitement and my heart is beating at a million miles an hour.

Again, I zap the tall form in front of me to help start everything. I get a little out of breath.

His fingers twitch.

All the excitement somehow got me coughing awfully loudly and as I wheeze away, I accidentally thump the large masculine chest lying flat before me. Before I know what I have done, there is a sudden upright movement and a male voice.

**_"Moron!"_**

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**Kudos to you if you know where I got the name 'Steve' from, and if you know what cereal Chell is eating ;)**

Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please R&R, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^


	5. Ello Luv!

**A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews, favourites and follows ^_^ You guys are awesome. This chapter is a bit less lengthy than the others. Sorry about that.**

** It's short but sweet.**

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Chapter 5: 'Ello Luv!

Wheatley's POV

**_"Moron!" _**I hear myself yelling. Wait, what? I was sure I was supposed to die when crash landing to the Earth. I should be a pile of mushy metal bits. Most things would be. Hey, I even got told_ in great detail _that I would _most definitely_ get destroyed by-

"_Honestly! _They said to me I couldn't even survive a fall of over 15 feet, they did, let alone… let alone breaking the bloody sound barrier! I should just… just forget everything they said, really, shouldn't I? Obviously just a load of lies. A pile of rubbish. A bundle of fabricated nonsense. Well, look at me now!" I talk to myself, before realising my voice sounds a bit different.

"Oh, 'ey up, what's wrong here then?" Instinctively, I try to search my circuits to find a problem. Instead two large hands come up in front of me. My circuits feel different, also. New. I can't ignore the hands though, and that's when I realise.

I'm controlling them.

I wiggle them about in front of my vision, delighted with my new-found control.

"Hey! This is well fun, this! Ha ha, it's Wheatley, the arm controller!" I say in a dark, mysterious voice.

Wait. Hang on a second.

I slowly look down and see a pair of feet, connected to two long, lanky legs, joined to a slim waist and a slightly muscular body. Some kind of blue light, with a large crack snaking down it, flickers in a circular, metal disc slightly to the left. The hands and arms sprout off to both sides and when I am unable to angle myself to see anymore, I understand.

"O-Oh." I drop the hands to the sides of the body. "What? W-What on Earth has happened to me? Is this some kind of- some kind of stupid revenge scheme, GLaDOS? Because you know what I think? I think… I think that floating around in _bloody space_ was enough! I can't be a human! I don't want to be a smelly human! They… they… they smell!"

It's then I see her.

"_Chell_? 'Ello luv! Oh, bloody hell, is it really you? What are you doin' 'ere? You should be long gone out the facility by now!" She's really here! I don't believe it. I try not to act too excited because I know she will probably want to rip out my circuits. Or heart now, I suppose.

She stands motionless, dressed in faded blue jeans and a purple tank top, just staring at me.

"You don't smell, though, honest. You're the one exception! You smell positively lovely, have you, er, have you bought a new deodorant or something?" I try to look happy and truthful but I have no idea how to control my new face. "Oh dear, I've done it this time, 'aven't I?"

Chell's eyes fill with tears as she just waits there. I caused her to feel this way. I know they must be tears of sadness, betrayal and hurt. Now's the time for my speech.

"Ch-Chell, luv, look, I had this whole speech lined up about how great you are and-and how cool you look when you do that whole somersaulting thing through portals, but… but…" Pausing for a moment, I sigh. Nothing can ever prepare you for a real-life situation, I suppose. "All I can really say is… I'm sorry, what I did, i-it was really low. Lowest of lows. Lowest robot ever to exist, living in Low-ville, with a massive 'low' written across my forehead, and I really am sorry." She looks down at the floor, or maybe her feet.

"I'm sorry that I was such a bloody moron." Chell looks up suddenly and shakes her head in disagreement, her brunette ponytail waggling away behind her.

"I am a moron. Moron, moron, moron." I add, pointing to myself with my new hands. Now Chell takes a step closer to me, shakes her head again and presses a finger to my lips. I speak through her thin finger.

"Chell, I one hundred per cent understand if you hate me and want to kill me or hit me or something. If I was you, I'd definitely hate me. I do hate me. Every bit of me. If you can't forgive me, that's ok. I understand. And I _am_ a moron." This time, with another step closer, Chell wraps me up in a tight, warm hug. Sitting awkwardly with my arms by my sides, I become a little confused but then I realise.

She forgives me.

Something that I hope is a grin spreads across my face. I feel full of life and extremely happy. Oh, I should probably hug her back. Her arms, around my chest, are warm and exceptionally inviting. She smells slightly of some kind of flower-y substance and there's something about her that just radiates freshness. The fact that I can now smell things adds to my contentment and delight. As I look around, I realise that we are in a house, not the facility. So Chell escaped the facility! And more importantly, she escaped GLaDOS! Wonder how she did that then?

Chell leans back a little bit, releasing me from her hug. One finger points to me and I know she wants to say something, so I get ready to try translating her actions.

"Not. Moron."

I sit baffled by what just happened. A timid, croaky but yet feminine voice came out of nowhere.

Out of Chell.

"Oh my _gosh_, luv! Y-You can talk! Wow! That's great, just great! More than great! How did ya manage that then? Wow. Pretty impressed, I am." I widen what I think is my smile and beam down at her.

"And," She manages to say. I raise what I believe is one of my eyebrows and wait. I feel something in... my… my face? Is that what it's called? Anyway, I feel something in my face heat up (which worries me slightly) when she leans in to me and puts her lips next to my ear.

With a smile, she whispers, "Apple."

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Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please make sure you review, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^


	6. Questions

**A/N: Agh! I am so sorry for the delay on this one! I was actually away from home when I posted those first five chapters and so I had to get back home and then I ended up with food poisoning (think I ate a bad strawberry or something, ugh) so I couldn't upload this as soon as I wanted to. This chapter was a pain to write. It was meant to be a filler but ended up exploring Chell's internal struggles and ended up being****_ really_****long. Lemme know whatcha think! And again, I am sooooo sorry that it took so long! **

***le hugs because you are still reading***

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Chapter 6: Questions

Chell's POV

The smile that covers Wheatley's face is absolutely adorable. Even though I don't want it to, my heart flutters a little bit in my chest. I give him a giant, toothy grin back. My smile fades as his does though, when he looks down shyly.

"Chell?" He asks quietly, head still bowed. "How did I become a human?"

Ah.

I knew that he would probably ask this eventually. I tried to imagine scenarios that would make sense. Scenarios that were simple and fool-proof but were also kind-of complex in such a way that wouldn't have Wheatley asking too many questions. I don't want to tell him the truth, even though he is my only friend. I don't really want to show him how desperate I was to save him. He might think that I'm insane or crazy. He might think that I'm overly attached to him. He might even think… No. Don't want him thinking that. Don't want him thinking that I'm-

My breath catches in my dry throat.

Don't want him to… think I'm… love… don't want… in… with… love with him… in love…

Don't want him thinking I'm in love with him.

I shake myself mentally. _Get a grip. You're not in love with him. He is safely within the friend zone, and it's ok to care about your friends. He would have done the same for you. In a heartbeat._

I could always blame it on the brain damage.

"Ahem." Wheatley can probably see my mental disorganization and politely reminds me he's there.

Oh, right. I have to answer.

I decide to opt for the shrugging shoulders option. If I just say I found him lying around on the street, then there wouldn't be much I have to explain.

"Oh, ok. So did you… did you find me like this or… did I just… turn up at your doorstep or something? I heard, y'know, I heard that there's a legend you humans (or should I say, us humans?) like to use that babies are delivered by these birds… called 'storks', they are. Just to clarify, I did-I didn't get dropped off by one of these… storks, did I? I'm just not… very fond of birds, as you… as you might remember. Bit embarrassing, to be honest, that was. A pet hate, birds. Don't like them. Never have. They tend to like shiny things, you see… and being a metal-y object, you can imagine how well that played out. Not very well. Not very well at all. Quite traumatising, actua-"

He stops because I can't suppress my giggles for any longer. Having Wheatley by my side and hearing him ramble on about such silly things has made me happier than I think I ever realised. I'd never have guessed that having Wheatley alive and kicking would make me smile for the first time in four months. I hadn't been depressed, don't worry, I just hadn't been… myself, I suppose.

"No birds, then?" He asks worriedly. I shake my head. "Oh, ok. That's good."

I leave him with a small grin and make my way into the kitchen. If he was now the user of a homeless person's body, he would probably be hungry.

"Oi! Where do you think you're going? Just gonna… gonna leave me here? Alright, but… come back soon, will ya?" I chuckle silently as I hear Wheatley calling from the science room. "I'm not exactly sure that I trust myself in this new… body."

I heat up the leftover, extra bits of last night's spaghetti in the microwave and place a fork into it. I am about to return to Wheatley, when I see the straggly bits of scrap metal spilling out of the science room door.

Oh no.

I should have cleaned up.

There are all the remains of my futile attempt to bring the Wheatley back as a core in there! That would be a dead giveaway that I had saved him. I've got to get him out of there and lock the door behind him. Even his casing is in there! He was probably looking around now and realising I had lied to him.

"Wh…" I cough and wheeze, unable to say his name. My throat seems to have locked up, just as I was starting to make some good progress with speaking. "Wheeat." Cough. "Leeey." I manage to choke out, but this only causes him panic.

"Chell? Ch-Chell, are you alright, luv? You don't sound too good. Hang on, I'm comin'." He calls from the room that I so desperately want him out of. I wince as I hear him falling onto the cold stone floor. Something that sounds like glass shatters in his hurry. "I'm-I'm ok! Just a little bruise, I'm sure. Agh."

The sight of him half crawling, half wriggling, out of the science room like some kind of disabled, arthritic worm is almost enough to crack me up again, but the thought that he has seen his casing or that he is injured badly stops the laughter. There are small shards of metal all over the floor! They could easily become embedded in his skin or cause him to lose a considerable amount of blood. The thought of bleeding and serious injuries makes my whole body shudder, and icy tingles swoop down my back. But thinking of Wheatley makes me put on a brave face. I can't let him see me hurting. Even if it was absolutely nothing to do with him, he might feel like he was to blame and that I was crying because he betrayed me. I messily drop the bowl of spaghetti onto the kitchen counter and rush over to be by Wheatley's side.

I know that my face is probably full of fear for Wheatley's well-being, but I don't even care after seeing poor Wheatley writhing around on the apartment floor. I sling his arm around my shoulders and help him (very unsteadily) limp over to the couch. It's at this point that I thank myself for buying a black leather couch, as Wheatley's blood wouldn't stain.

Thankfully, he only has a few minor scrapes that I sterilise partly. It is hard to listen to Wheatley whimpering over the pain. As I walk to fetch a few Band-Aids, he tries to practise walking in the free space next to the couch. As I root through the cupboards, I keep on looking over at him whenever I hear any bangs or crashes. Wheatley mutters incessantly to himself as he tries to get the hang of using his feet. I suppose that being so tall and lanky doesn't help his coordination. Somehow, being so tall seems to fit his personality. I don't really know why.

I find the Band-Aids eventually, and I help him sit back down. I try to be as careful as I can with his wounds but sometimes he flinches, even though I can see he attempts to hide it. He stares at me the whole time with a solemn expression on his face. I try to avoid his gaze.

"Chell." I ignore him, standing up to close the science room door_. _I kick the fragments of metal back inside.

"Chell." My wrist turns as I lock the door. _Please don't say you know. Please don't say you know._

"Chell?" I rest my forehead against the oak-coloured door. Now he's getting up, standing and stumbling his way over.

"Chell, I wanted to say-"

**_"What?" _**I ask him sharply. My voice cracks from the strain. I don't want to talk, why can't he see that?

"I…" I hear his mouth open and close again, gaping in its speechlessness.

"I… It doesn't matter." Sighing, I turn around.

"Tell." Flurries of expressions skim over Wheatley's defined features and he breathes in. A pained, conflicted look is the one to rest there. Oh god, he knows, doesn't he?

"Why?" He asks simply. I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what he is asking about. Why… did I lie about saving him? Why… is he out of space? Why… am I acting so defensive?

"Why… Why did you take me in? After everything that I did, you should be fuming, you should, and yet here you are, patching me up because I'm clumsy, giving me help because I'm incapable and being so bloody nice to me because I'm an idiot. So… why?"

Something in my heart wants to speak to him.

_Because I think that I might just be-_

**_No._**

I can't deal with it any longer. I don't _want_ to deal with _him_ any longer.

Throwing my hands up, I force out an "Ugh." and shut myself in my bedroom.

"Hey, Chell, no, no, n-no, wait! You don't have to answer, please! Just… come back, would ya? I've been awfully lonely for such a… such a bloody long time and I just… missed you. And your friendship.. and your dedication and… just you, really." Wheatley desperately mumbles, his voice muffled by the door. His voice breaks a few times and I hear him half-sob during his pauses.

I hear Wheatley slump up against my bedroom door. I bury my head into my pillow to disguise my sniffles.

"Chell?"

_Stop._

"Chell?"

_Please._

...

Silence?

"… ...Luv?"

That is enough to break me. I storm out of the room hurriedly, which almost causes Wheatley to topple over. I give him a giant hug for the second time that day and I squeeze him tightly to me. He might be my best friend, but he was causing me to have these sudden mood swings and acting really strangely, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I look into his eyes, still held in his strong arms, and want to jump up again. My forehead creases and I peer up into his blinking eyes, pressing my face incredibly close to Wheatley's.

"Ah! Uh, luv, what are you doing exactly? That… That feels a little weird, if I'm honest. Lot weird."

I am too confused to answer him. When I do talk, it is hushed and not aimed at him.

"Blue…" I say under my breath.

"Blue?" Wheatley questions. "Wha-What's blue?"

"Eyes. Blue." I whisper slowly.

I could have sworn they were bright green when I last saw them. I'm sure that Steve had green eyes. My own eyes are caught by Wheatley's housing compartment as it flickers away whilst he mumbles. I notice it burns the exact same colour as his eyes. I look from the compartment to Wheatley's eyes, to the compartment and back again. This repeats several times until my gaze comes to rest on his eyes. Wheatley's orbs are such a deep blue, and they blaze so brightly. I'm captivated.

"I've… I've got blue eyes? What's, er, what's so wrong about that? Should I have grey eyes like you? Oh dear, am I gonna die?"

My trance is broken. I laugh it off, shaking my head and playing cool. In my experiments, the physical features of Spike or the horse hadn't changed one bit. Maybe… maybe this was a unique adaptation for the human body. I can't let Wheatley know that it was unexpected because talking about Steve would reveal I had saved him.

"Blue eyes nice." I fill in, slightly annoyed about how stupid I feel. I sound like some wimpy three year old in a pushchair, but I physically can't say anything more without my throat locking up.

Wheatley yawns with a smile. "Ok, luv."

His yawn sets off one of my own, and I see the sun is long gone from the sky. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally, by the events of the past few days. I mime a 'sleeping' action to Wheatley and he nods. I bring in an extra blanket from the foot of my bed and lay it out on the couch. I use the couch cushions to create some pillows at one end and wait for Wheatley to get in. He wriggles under the blanket after stumbling over to the couch. I am about to leave but Wheatley grabs my hand.

"Chell?" I murmur a little noise that implies he should carry on. "Chell, this probably sounds absolutely ridiculous, but… how… how do you go to sleep? I never had a sleep mode as a core, y'see, so… I don't know how to."

I offer Wheatley a small smile in sympathy and take a piece of paper and a pen from the coffee table. I don't want to wear my voice out.

_Close your eyes. Think of happy things. It'll happen without you realising._

"Alright. I'll try." I make to leave again, only to be stopped once again. "Oh, and Chell? Goodnight."

My heart becomes heavy just with the one friendly gesture. I kneel at Wheatley's side and kiss him gently on the forehead. His cheeks go noticeably red, even in the dim lighting, and I whisper, "Sleep."

My bed feels lonelier than it ever has done that night.

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**Hey guys! ****Feel free to use PM/reviews to ask me questions or suggest future scenes or fics or whatever ^_^**

Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please review, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^


	7. Learning Curve

**A/N: I am so terrible! AGH. I had totally meant to get this chapter up a bajillion years ago but I returned to school in September and I am now starting GCSE courses (I'm from the UK C: ) so I have so much more work. I also got a ridiculous case of writers block about 800 words into this and I couldn't write any more because I just had NOTHING. bleugh. This chapter didn't turn out the way I wanted, but I hope you like it anyhow. It comes across (to me anyway) as a bit of a filler chapter when I was deliberately trying not to make any chapters filler-y because I feel they are disappointing for you guys as it is not much of an update!**

**THANK YOU BTW! **

**I have gotten a ridiculous amount of views and favourites and reviews and follows, especially for my first story, and all the nice things you guys have to say is almost overwhelming sometimes. If I'm feeling a bit crap then I just read through all your reviews and I physically can't stop smiling after I read them. (Cheshire cat ova here) I have almost 2000 views on this story or something which is cray cray and it just makes me so happy ^_^**

**I am trying to reply to reviews but for some I feel like I would just be repeating myself over and over and for others I have nothing much to reply back with. (being the unsociable wonder that I am) So sorry if I do not reply! I don't know how many authors reply to reviews but I hope I am doing ok!**

**(hugs with extra sprinkles :3)**

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Chapter 7: Learning Curve

Wheatley's POV

I wake up feeling refreshed and renewed. The whole sleeping thing was quite useful, really. If humans woke up every day feeling this active and new, I don't know what they would have to complain about.

I lean on my back and think about Chell giving me that… kiss last night. I know it was only a friendly gesture, but… I don't know. It was like nothing I've ever felt before. Being a human was quite confusing. I felt all of these new things that my emotions as a robot just couldn't compute.

I fall off the sofa when I feel an intense pain in my… abdomen. I think that's what it's called.

"Ow. Ow. Owowow. Chell? Help!" I hear the springs in Chell's bed shift slightly, then there is the small pitter-patter of footsteps.

As she opens her door and steps into the kitchen, I notice that her hair is tied in a messy ponytail behind her head and she is squinting at the light.

"Chell, it hurts. There." I poke my stomach. "Ow, shouldn't have done that."

Chell brings her hands to her mouth suddenly as if she forgot something. She runs to her kitchen counter and picks up a bowl of something. Its contents are tested by Chell, but are soon deposited in the bin.

I watch as Chell flits about in the kitchen, preparing and pouring like she was a worker bee or something. I've never seen her move about so quickly. The pain I am in forces me to make small, strangled grunts of uncomfortableness, whilst I observe her.

Minutes later, Chell returns with a bowl of some beige or brown substance that swims inside a pool of white-ish stuff. A silver-coloured stiff thing pokes out of the top because it doesn't fit in the bowl. I peer down at it.

"Chell, luv? Is this… medicine? Looks a bit weird." It has a very weird smell to it also.

She shakes her head and tries to speak, but appears unable to. This seems to frustrate her quite terribly. Chell writes the word 'Food' on her paper from last night. I smile at the memory of the previous evening's events. Oh, yeah, I remember now. 'Food'. Apparently you're supposed to eat it when you're hungry. Is this what being hungry feels like? I don't ever want to be hungry again. Ever.

The bowl, when it rests in my hands, is cold to the touch. It remains in-between my hands as I peer at it. Chell repeats the process of making this 'food' stuff again and I watch her, hardly blinking. She sits by me on the sofa and her gaze connects to mine. Her hand twists, palm facing upwards in an open gesture that I assume means: "Go ahead." But I'm stuck again.

I grimace at my own stupidity. Part of me wishes I wasn't human. Being a robot, I could just use my internally processed research device and the answers to whatever I asked would be right there in my chip. I didn't have to ask or search or find the answer. At the same time, it makes me incredibly in awe of Chell and how she managed to learn all of this.

"How do you… um… process this stuff?" I ask.

Chell smiles sympathetically, a little humour dancing in her eyes and I trade a small one back. She picks up the hard silver thing in one hand, balancing the bowl in the other outstretched palm. I keep watching, waiting for something to happen, when I see she is looking at me, eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh! Oh, right. Sorry, luv." I copy her actions, but the silver device falls out of my large, clumsy hands. After several of my failing attempts Chell helps me position my hands in the right way. Her fingertips are calloused and worn away. My hands itch slightly when they meet with Chell's, the quick contact tickly and marginally uncomfortable. I want to move my hands, and some deep human instinct unbeknownst to me is compelling me to take a hold of Chell's hands in my own.

Chell moves her hands away, closing them into fists and laying them on her lap. My own are in the most ridiculous position, in my opinion, but the silver thingy rests in my left hand perfectly. Chell keeps her eyes on my hands though, and I look down to see them slightly shaking. I know that this is not unusual; I'd noticed Chell's hands shaking plenty in the facility. It still isn't the most comfortable of experiences though. I wanted it to stop. The grey orbs of Chell's eyes dart up to meet mine, then dart back to my hands. They flit away to one side; back down as she takes a deep breath and sighs, and then they meet with my hands again. She makes to open one clenched fist, tightens it back up again, but then sighs once more. Her eyes follow her opening palms as they take the spoon out from my hand and place it on a soft embroidered cushion beside me. Chell pauses again. I inhale as I feel the contact. The contact something beneath my now fragile surface had nudged me towards.

Her palms, which are pressed to the back of my hand, are not at all like her fingertips. They are soft and delicate and incredibly pleasing to touch. As they rub soothingly, I feel the light tremors in my hands fade away.

Something tugs at my insides. The thought that crops up in my head is like a revelation but also a reminder at the same time.

Chell has always helped me. She somehow always manages to just… make it go away. Anything I have on my mind, I can just tell her and she will fix it. I wanted out of the facility. She made it happen. I wanted to see Chell again when I was stuck in space. Somehow, she made that happen too. My hands were shaking, and with just a touch, she fixed it.

I don't know if she realises, but she has a gift. Her presence is just… incredible to be in. She seems to have this… burning fiery passion inside her that radiates such a soothing light all around her.

I realise it then.

I realise it like no other revelation before me. The world seems to turn the trillions of leaves placed upon it and I can see everything so differently now.

Because I realise.

She fixes me.

All the GLaDOS, and testing, and space, and moron inside of me just… _disappears_.

And in its place is Chell.

Whilst I have been thinking and muttering on in my head, Chell has refused to make eye contact. Her gaze is held by something to her right; perhaps the sofa cushions. It is almost as if she is embarrassed. I don't understand for the life of me why because we're friends, right? But she still does not want to meet my eyes and look into them. This frustrates me slightly. If she can hold my hand, she can bloody well look at me. I slip out one of my hands from beneath hers and tilt her chin gently towards me. She tries to look away, pupils desperately scanning the room for something to fixate on. My voice drops and becomes low and husky as I half-whisper: "Chell."

A tiny blush paints her high cheekbones as her eyes trail reluctantly back to mine. I can tell she is figuring out something from her withdrawn yet defiant stare, but I don't know what.

A moment settles itself down in the room for more than a moment, mellowing everything and blurring the mixed, confused moments of before together.

But it is forgotten all too soon, and the moment flees somewhere out of my reach.

Chell withdraws back into herself again, releasing my steady hands and resuming the lesson we were in before. The glassy, glossy, painted-over look that I despise resides spitefully once again in Chell's eyes and the rest of the day passes without any more moments like the first.

I learn things from Chell, but yet I feel like we progress nowhere.

She still keeps her distance. We are sat in the same room but sometimes it feels like we could still have the vast vacuum of space between us.

Chell teaches me how to eat. The silver thing comes in different forms, as I am shown. I can use the round one and the pronged one, but the straight one? Not so much. Chell communicates, through the combination of both writing and strained speaking, that she has to work most days a week. Her 'shifts', (whatever those are) she tells me, are never longer than five hours. I don't really know whether that is good or bad at the moment. She has been 'calling in sick' the past two days whilst she looked after me, apparently. I don't know what that is. Chell manages to tell me that tomorrow is Sunday and so she doesn't have to work anyway. On Monday she will have to work though. I don't really understand these concepts either, but I nod. If Chell can make the effort to tell me these things and trust me with the knowledge, I can at least try to act like I know what on earth she is talking about.

I've never really had Chell tell me things before; I always had to find them out for myself. I would figure and study and maybe I would understand the basic gist of what she meant.

This was different though.

New.

As I tuck myself in on the sofa, I sigh, listening to Chell's footsteps as she retreats to her bedroom. No kiss tonight; and I find myself minding. Why wouldn't she do it again? I had hoped it would have become something of a routine.

My brain is completely full of new facts Chell has taught me and refuses to allow me any sleep. I lie still and think instead. It becomes apparent to me that I have all these strange, pent up things inside that I want to confront Chell about, but part of me says no, but then the other part says yes and another part is really confusing and then one part is just running around like a small naked child. I don't know what to do. Being a human is tough.

I pull the soft blanket over my shoulder.

Humans are weird.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I don't own any of these characters; they belong to the Portal franchise! Please R&R, it's my first fic so be kind :P haha anyway, let me know if I should continue with this and let me know of any mistakes ^_^**


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